Bedroom Eyes
by Miss Boleyn
Summary: With the end of nine years together impending, Scully muses about her life and that of her partners. Character Death. During finale so some spoliers! Please R


Disclaimer: I don't own XF, never have, never will.

A/N: This is a play off what could have happened in the finale, so beware of some spoilers for the series in general as well as the finale. Please review!

God, who would have ever thought this? Who would have thought that I would be sitting here right now, the only man that I loved not five feet away yet I can't touch him or hold him, or reassure him. I was never supposed to even start this path, I was going to be a doctor who worked in a hospital and helped those in the moments of their most vulnerable. I was never supposed to fall in love with an FBI agent who some consider crazy and the shell of a once brilliant man. I wasn't even supposed to become friends with this man, I was to ruin him and send him away, ever to bug the FBI again. Here I am though, all of those things and I don't give a damn about all of those supposed to's. The only supposed to is that our son, our miracle, is supposed to be asleep between us with his soft baby breath on his father and me -- together as a family, always, forever, on to the ends of this universe.

The time doesn't matter, not now, not ever. Nine years, nine days, nine hours, nine minutes, they all are the same. Together Mulder and I have gone though hell and come out the other side intact for the most part. Up until now that is. Mulder, Scully, it seems like a stupid child's game, calling each other by our last names. Like we can prove something by them, prove that we are big kids or something. Nine years, it doesn't seem like nine years, time flies when you have fun, but I guess it does too when you're falling in love, or heading for a disastous end.

When did I fall in love? It wasn't that first time, nor that first year, or anytime now that I think of it. I knew it though when I was going to transfer to Salt Lake, and the only thing in the world that I wanted was for Mulder to come rushing in and stop me from doing it. Last thing I thought of before I passed out in that hallway was Mulder and all I knew is that the last thing that I wanted on my mind was how beautiful his smile was and how his eyes lit up when he gave that smile. From there on out, I knew that it was only a matter of time before this happened…this wonderful happening. The very one that was never supposed to happen.

Everything with us has been off since the start; the believer and the skeptic, the dreamer and the scientist, the lost soul and the redeemed. Opposites attract, or so they say, and I never really believed it, not until now. Why would I? Everyone that I have ever known was like me, thought like me, had faith like me. Mulder turned my world upside down from the second that I stepped into that dank little basement office that soon called my home. He's taught me how to have faith in things that can't be categorized, cataloged, or easily referenced. Or something like that. I want to believe, yes Mulder; I want to believe in us, our son, our future. Those things that are hardest to believe in…aliens, black oil, that is easy, child's play compared to this. I trust you, I need you, and we all do, even though we don't show it.

Mulder, always misunderstood and never appreciated. This brings us here; right now, and this place that I never imagined. It could never have played out like this in the wildest of dreams. Even if those who consider him a crackpot would let him be things could still work out. They let Einstein go on, and his genius was a form of insanity not unlike Mulder. Yet they will kill, murder in cold blood, the man that they know has the most sanity of all of us. Like I said, it wasn't supposed to happen this way—nothing about this was.

I think of the time that we were Rob and Laura and somehow we made ourselves into the cute married couple down the block. No one else could do it like that if they tried, there has to be a natural element and we had it. I don't care about the fact that I made him sleep on the sofa, the honest truth is that I wanted to be his wife in full rights and honors including sharing the bed, and a few more things besides. To go back to Arcadia and be that couple would probably kill something inside the two of us though. We have gone beyond pretending our lives are cute anymore. They are dank and harsh and filled with trouble and pain, but most of all one is going to end and there is nothing that I can do as a FBI agent, a partner, a friend, or as a woman. 

When they open the drapes so that I can see Mulder, dressed in that hateful orange suit, I want to throw up. The symbolism of nine years adds up, and I can see just about everything in him. The suit that I always found him so attractive in is now an ugly orange jumpsuit. The bug bites that I called him into my room about are red welts on his arms. The lights overhead that I know remind him of the time that he was abducted contrast the nights we spent together, driving on a case, or in a hotel talking on the phone, or making love in the comfortable dark cloak of night. The straps that hold him down are like his beliefs that held him to his work, to his sister, to me. They are also the ties that kept me to him though everything that should have driven us apart. The IVs are like the links to his sister, painful and in the end, fatal. 

"Last words?" a cold and metallic voice asks him.

I hate that voice, I hate that it will be that voice that Mulder hears last, not mine, or William's. I hate that it interrupts my thoughts and marks the beginning of the end. Just not the end of a case, or the end of a year, or end of the millennium but the end of two lives… his and mine. My life is his life and visa versa. In the past nine years I have probably spent more time with them then my own family. More time than I'll ever spend with our son.

"I finally get to travel starlight." Mulder says in a calm tone and with a smile on his face.

The reference nearly slays me, it really does. That night when he found his sister's diary and found out the ugliness of what really happened to her. The idea of starlight was hope to him, and it almost makes sense, a completion of things if there is such a thing at forty. Forty? He never really seemed that old until now, not at all. I guess that he is perpetually thirty in my mind and not a day over. A hell of a lot has happened to him in those forty years, too much.

"Commence," that same evil voice says.

Mulder looks right at me and smiles that same smile that I saw when I first walked into the basement office. After all this crap that has happened to us, he still can smile that beautiful smile. I start to cry again, or maybe I still am crying and now I just realize it. Who knows, who gives a damn? I put my fingertips to my mouth and try and put on a brave face, but the hot and salty rivers flowing down my hands make it impossible. No noise though, just tears that realize no end.

Slowly he shuts his eyes and keeps that wonderful smile on, I like to think just for me. I told him once, how much I loved that smile, when we were under that wonderful cloak of darkness. That was when he told me how much he loved my bedroom eyes. Finally its over, and as a doctor it makes it that much harder. There won't be any late night exhumations or early morning reunions. This is it, the end. No third chance at coming back from the dead. Part of me expects it though…why wouldn't I? 

After everyone has gone, John and Monica and Skinner, I look past the glass and see the man. I memorize every feature of the strong nose and the lines around his eyes and mouth and the way that his hair falls on his forehead. The things about his face that will never change with age and pain that he won't have to go through anymore. I have to thank Skinner for making it so that I could stay here, alone, and reflect. He gave me a piece of paper before he left and then he was gone. Gone. Everyone I've ever loved is gone. I open it up and read in that handwriting I've come to know so well:

Dearest Dana-

I know that this letter is painful, but there are so many things that I wanted to tell you but none of them matter. I love you; I love you, I LOVE YOU! I didn't say it enough to you. Wherever I go, be it the starlight, heaven or your own heart where I always found a haven of refuge and strength, know that I will always watch you and our son. There is no force on earth, or in heaven or hell to keep me from it and to keep me from loving the two of you. My only regret is that you are alone, physically, which is more than you should have to bear. Just know that when you need me, I'll be ready and waiting to make sure that you go on and to comfort you. Here's to nine years.

Love you always and forever,

Mulder 

Now I sob, full, loud, body racking sobs that are more animal than human. Some things are for private moments, just like bedroom eyes. 


End file.
